


Devastation

by cotton_prima



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Timeline, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7606432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cotton_prima/pseuds/cotton_prima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’d lost as much as he had, yet somehow still found it in her to care. She deserved better from him. He had to at least try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devastation

**Author's Note:**

> It's your bad timeline angst!fic. Everyone's either older and grumpier, or they're dead.

He should have been with him. If not to save him, then at least to die trying. It was not right for a vassal to outlive his lord as he had, to salvage the sword, but nothing else. The third Exalt Ylisse had lost in his lifetime, and there had been no body to bury. He’d failed them all; lady Lissa weeping at her coronation, and the queen with eyes like dark lanterns. The queen.

Olivia alone knew. It had been agony to tell her what his wife, her lover, had done. She had deserved to know, but Frederick hadn’t been able to stand her tears, and would have excused himself from her presence if he’d been well enough to move. She’d wept in front of him, and he had spared her so much. She didn’t know the wet smell of his lifeless, lighting-burnt body, or how she, that _thing_ she’d become, had only laughed when he’d run her through with his lance, had torn his arm with only her hands. She didn’t know, as he did, that she was still alive in there.

Alive enough to spare his life.

Alive enough to let Chrom die.

But this bed may as well have been a coffin, this room his tomb. Injured or not, she couldn’t keep him secluded in the castle, not while the war was encroaching on the few remaining parts of the halidom that still knew peace. He’d heard the reports. Stahl’s unit had fallen and the countryside was in flames. Plegian forces would advance upon Ylisstol if they weren’t immediately cut off, and he would have ample time to rest when he was dead, a time which, he thought grimly, may not be far off. For he _would_ find a way to ride, injuries be damned. What was an arm or two when the whole world might fall?

Someone entered the room. The queen, judging by the rustle of skirts and the discontented sigh. “I wish you wouldn’t get up so much, Frederick,” she said. “If you want to look out the window so much, I’ll ask someone to move your bed.”

He turned to face her slowly so as not to anger his wounds. “I’m quite well enough to walk the three steps from my bed to the window,” he said, more tersely than he’d intended, but her concern exhausted him, and was his position not shameful enough? How long had he been confined to this small room with a view only of a dismal patch of yard? It must have been several weeks already, though he’d not been conscious for all of it. He, who’d pledged fealty to Ylissean royalty and had served them well, now useless in this sealed square space, forbidden even to shuffle around in it. He could hardly imagine a better hell.

He hadn’t meant to snap at her though. How petty his irritation was; she’d only just entered the room, and weren’t her intentions good? She had better things to do than visit him, yet here she was. He had to try harder. She was exhausted too. The past weeks had left her thin, and even bad light seemed to pass through her. She had once been vibrant. Shy, yes, but hadn’t she been able to charm rooms? To make even the shabbiest of stages seem bright? Grief had diminished what even age hadn’t, but it hadn’t stopped her. She’d lost as much as he had, yet somehow still found it in her to care. She deserved better from him. He had to at least try. 

“You’re ribs haven’t healed yet,” Olivia said, as if it were possible that he’d forgotten. “It must hurt even to breathe.”

Frederick couldn’t tell her that it would hurt to breathe even if his ribs hadn’t been broken, and she took his silence as a sign of deference. He let her help him back to bed, let her remind him that the healers had ordered him to _rest_ , and let her wipe his face with a cool towel. “You do need a shave,” she said, and it was nearly a joke. When there was nothing else she could do for him, Olivia sat beside the bed and, after some hesitation, placed her hand over his.

Yes, it was impossible to hold any of this against her, not her kindness, nor how greatly it injured him. Every day she came to see him, and every day her hand hovered for just a second too long. He knew exactly why and wished she wouldn’t. But she unfailingly did, and it was impossible to hold any of it against her. All of it came from a place of affection, and even when, on his worst days, he wished she’d come to hate him and be done with it, he knew that he’d die before he lost her. He would be perfectly loyal, and that meant enduring the soft warmth of her hand.

“I heard that Morgan visited this morning,” she said, sounding sympathetic. How did she always muster sympathy for others? It seemed his own reserves had run dry ages ago. But yes, the morning had gone badly. His son hadn’t taken it well. He’d argued desperately to take his father’s place on the front lines, and wasn’t he ready after years of training harder, more earnestly, than anyone? But Frederick had held firm, insisted, and had once again failed to tell him what he’d meant to, that one thing he was afraid would break his son as it had broken him. So instead he’d demanded that Morgan continue to see to the princess’s protection, forbade him from joining the ranks of soldiers sent to hold their swiftly diminishing territory, and he’d stormed out of the room near tears.

“He’s still a child,” Frederick said, then wished he hadn’t. It sounded like an excuse, and war didn’t care about such distinctions. “But he’s devoted, and more than capable of protecting lady Lucina. I know he’d give his life for her.”

Olivia’s face paled, and he knew at once he’d misspoken, and had put a painful thought into her head. “Of course, it won’t come to that,” he added quickly, though his words sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. Olivia was not calmed.

“He doesn’t know about her, does he?”

She hadn’t spoken to accuse him, but Frederick felt himself bow beneath the question all the same. “No,” he admitted plainly. “And he mustn’t know.”

Olivia squeezed his hand, and he felt the cruelty of his choice afresh through her undeserved compassion.

“I have no complaints about my children’s protection,” she said, mercifully deciding not to push him on this, not to twist the knife of his guilt any further. “I do worry though,” she confessed, letting her gaze fall away from him. “At times, it seems Lucina is too willing to make this battle her own, now that her father’s…And Inigo’s not doing well either. He does his best to hide it from me, but I know he’s…” She sighed, and rubbed the palm of her hand into her eye. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to listen to my worries.”

Frederick shook his head, although it was difficult to hear. “You don’t owe me an explanation, milady. None of us were prepared for this.”

“I just wish I could be stronger for them. I’m their mother! They shouldn’t feel like they need to protect me.”

“They’d take it upon themselves to share your burden regardless. They have his nobleness.”

Olivia could only offer him a faltering smile, but she was grateful for the comparison. Memories passed between them silently: him, so magnanimous, yet stubborn about the silliest of things; him, always ready to stake his sword for a cause, but always kind, and always with his sights set on peace; him, as they’d been privileged to know him in all his intimacies, his clumsiness around matters of the heart, and the lingering grief for his sister that he’d held as close as a wound—a grief that had now come to them. There could be no relief, only small comforts to be passed back and forth between each other to keep up the momentum of living, to press onward, even after their king, general, and heart had been buried.

“They do resemble their father,” she said at last.

“With the benefit of their mother’s grace,” Frederick added, and a nostalgic blush rose to Olivia’s cheeks.

“Morgan too,” she said, reckless in redirecting the compliment. “He’s grown so clever and reliable, just like—“

“Don't!”

She jumped in her seat, and pulled her hand back as if to defend herself. He hadn’t meant to startle her. He hadn’t even meant to speak, but the word had come bursting out of him, leaving his ribs to bear the pain of his effort. He shut his eyes, opened them. Breathed, but not too deeply. The pain was worse than he’d imagined. He couldn’t look her in the face.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Forgive me, please. But don’t…”

He wondered if she would leave. He thought it would be best if she did. “I have to go,” was what she always said to excuse herself. “I have to.” Was it her duties that pulled her away, or was it him that repelled her? He knew he pushed her past tolerance, but he didn’t usually mean it. He wanted her to stay, but didn’t dare ask.

“So you won’t even let me speak her name,” Olivia said. Her voice was as hard as a fist. But although he was sorry, she would not move him, not on this.

“It hurts too much to speak of her.” Didn’t she understand that?

“It hurts too much not to!” Didn’t he understand that? “Frederick, you’re the only one I can talk to!”

_I’m the only one_ , he thought, _that knows she’s still alive. She thinks I hate a mere ghost. I’m the only one._ His own feelings had filled him to the throat.

“Do you not feel betrayed?” he asked her, and she held his accusing gaze, eyes set to steel with the indignation of having her grief held against her.

“I’m devastated,” she replied. Her hands were shaking.

They sat reeling in the inevitable silence, both on-edge and hurting. They had begun to think, as they were ashamed to do each time their company became strained, that somehow _they_ would have understood better. They felt worse knowing that, entrenched in their loss, they hadn’t really forgiven them for their absence.

Frederick could see that she was becoming restless. She wanted to leave, but didn’t want to walk out on him, not on this bitter note. Even now she was kind, hoping for reconciliation. He wanted to say something that would absolve her of him, but could only think of one thing he wanted her to know.

“I will return to the front soon.”

A long second passed as Olivia stared uncomprehendingly at him, then shook her head, dismissive. “You’re not even close to healed.”

“I’ve requested the use of a staff.”

“There are barely any left. Lissa won’t approve that.”

“With Stahl gone, we’ll need every active officer on the field. She knows that.”

She pursed her lips. “Even with the aid of a staff, your arm…”

“I am one of the realm’s most experienced knights and one of its last generals,” he argued. “And I’m the only soldier that has faced the fell dragon and lived. I know where I am needed, and I will find a way.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Olivia said, her expression tight with worry. “Frederick, you barely escaped your last encounter with…with Grima, and now you want to fight that monster singlehanded? You’d never survive.”

“My survival isn’t paramount to our cause.”

Olivia began to say something, then stopped herself. His resolve was visible in the hollowness of his face, the darkness that had settled over his brows. How many times had she seen the people she loved wear that expression? How many times had it filled her with dread and left her to wait for bad news? “There’s no changing your mind, is there?”

“There’s nothing for me to change it to.”

“I see,” Olivia said, resigned. “Then I will go with you.”

“Milady!” Frederick exclaimed. “You’d do better to inspire our soldiers from the capitol than on the vanguard!”

“I don’t intend to dance. I’m as good a swordmaster as any.”

Superior, even. Frederick had been right in assessing her potential all those years ago, and cursed himself for it. He knew no one swifter, no one more lethal with a blade than Olivia. Still, for all her speed and skill, it had been years since she’d seen actual combat, and this was no ordinary war. And she was the queen. _His_ queen.

“It would not have been their choice.”

“No, it wouldn’t have been,” she agreed, as candidly as if they were conversing over afternoon tea. Olivia folded her hands in her lap, and Frederick felt the full force of her serenity. “They always sheltered me too much,” she confessed. “They did what they could to keep me off the front lines, to consider my protection in ways that they didn’t with you. It wasn’t fair, I know.”

“I never held it against you. Battle is my duty as a knight.”

She nodded, shook her head. “But it wasn’t fair to us as their partners. They didn’t consider how it felt to be left behind, so long as I was kept safe. They put so much faith in you, and part of me was jealous of that. I hated feeling like that, so helpless, and yet…” She drew a shuddering breath. “I think I understand their feelings. There’s so little we can protect, but I know I will die before I see Lucina and Inigo dragged into this conflict. And maybe…” She looked guiltily at Frederick, an apology in her eyes. “Maybe, if we go together, we’ll be able to get through to her.”

Ah, so she knew. Or rather, she suspected. She was looking to him for confirmation, but what could he possibly say? He had wanted to spare her this.

_I’m devastated._

“You must understand, I don’t intend on bringing her back.”

It was like watching all the leaves from a tree fall at once, her shoulders quivering, then proudly pulled back, her posture sprouting once again into straightness, once again an image of strength. “I didn’t dare hope you would.”

“And you can abide by that? Truly?”

“I still love her,” she offered in answer, saying even more in the weary smile that played at the corners of her mouth. “Even after everything, I can’t help but love her. We both know that she would have chosen death over this kind of life, and if anyone’s going to relieve her of that, it should be us.

Frederick scoffed. “I wouldn’t call it relief.”

“Then you want her to suffer?”

“Is it so difficult for you to believe that I hate her?”

“I do believe it,” she said softly. “But I also believe that you still love her, and that he would forgive you for it. No, he would say there’s nothing to forgive.”

Her accusation was bitter to him, but no matter how much he wanted to reject it, he knew she had touched upon a truth. He’d never asked him to choose between them before, and would have wanted him to forgive her, would surely have done so himself. He’d always been so willing to absolve others of fault, especially her. But Frederick couldn’t let this go, not even for him. She hadn’t killed him, but had hurt him badly, and then left him lying in agony in a foreign land. Left him to their bereaved son and Olivia’s grief. Left him to watch the land he’d dedicated his entire life to uphold crumble under the pressures of war. Left him to live. He had to hate her. He hated her and what she’d done, would never forgive her in this life or the next, and still, he loved her.

He loved her.

He was ruined.

He hadn’t saved her either.

“Gods,” he muttered, raising his fist over his eyes. “Gods.”

Graciously, mercifully, Olivia averted her gaze, lowering her head as his breath came in painful gasps. Damn it. Damn it! His chest and ribs felt raw. All of him felt raw. He’d thought that the worst was behind him. How many more times would he have to be wrong? He was a fool, a fool, a fool…

“I should have been with you in Plegia,” she said in a low voice. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But you won’t have to shoulder that burden alone anymore.”

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“You can’t.” She raised her head now. “But I’m so tired, Frederick. I’m so tired of waiting to hear that my friends have died. So you don’t have to ask me to do anything. My mind is made up, and I’m sure I would have arrived at this decision with or without you.”

“I’m glad you’re with me,” he said suddenly. He was embarrassed for having said it, for his lapse in stoicism, but what unseemly parts of him hadn’t she already seen? She knew his shame, and as ignoble as it was, those were his feelings. Over the past twenty years, they’d fought together, fallen for the same people together, and shared their loss. He didn’t love her in the same way he’d loved them, but in other ways she knew him better, saw him more clearly than they had. It was right, he thought, for them to share this duty. They would go together, and he would be with her at the end.

Perhaps his confession was surprising to Olivia. Perhaps not. She smiled at him for the first time without sadness, and wrapped both of her hands around his.

“I’m glad you’re with me too.”

And with what little strength he had, Frederick squeezed back.

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I wanted to see more Chrom/Olivia/MU/Frederick, and then I killed off half the ship. Mission accomplished?


End file.
